Free Moon Over Montana (McCutcheon Family Series Book 5) by Caroline Fyffe Page B

Couldn’t think of anything or anyone but her. Her pa knew I wouldn’t give up, so after a month he finally said yes—but that we’d have to wait three months.” He chuckled again and gazed off at the cattle, deep in thought.
    “Well, what happened?” Charity asked. “You’re not stopping there.”
    “What happened?” he repeated. “I worked every job I could find, and that was no easy feat because Y Knot was hardly even a town back then. Jobs were few and far between. I scraped together what little money I could and built her a small one-room log cabin, then began building this ranch, one steer at a time.”
    “And the boys?”
    “They started coming along faster each year, and finally you. As much as Claire loves her sons, which she does with all her heart, when you surprised us, something inside her blossomed. It was as if after having four sons in a row, she hadn’t believed a daughter was possible.”
    He reached over and patted her leg, making her throat squeeze tight.
    “We’re going to miss you, darlin’, and that’s a fact I’m not ashamed to say out loud to the whole world.”
    “Pa, stop. You’re making me all sentimental. I’m not going anywhere—far, at least.”
    He reined around. “You better not. So just humor me a little. You’ll understand better when your last ragamuffin is ready to fly the coop.” His voice became thick, and he pulled his hat low. “Come on, we have work to do.” He urged his mount into a jog, headed east.
    Charity followed. “That’s a lifetime away, Pa,” she called. “I want to enjoy my youth for a while before I start bemoaning a nest empty of children I don’t even have.”
    “You better prepare yourself. Life goes by faster than you think—and takes some unexpected turns along the way.”
    Thirty minutes later, they arrived at Covered Bridge. Charity’s mare put her head down and snorted when Charity asked her to cross, but followed tentatively after Flood’s horse.
    The rushing water made a cheerful sound and the air was cool and inviting. After crossing, they halted on the other side of the river. “Where do you think the cattle are?” she asked.
    “This way. Usually they’re in the valley by the aspen grove.” Without another word, they loped off.
    As usual, her pa was right. It was a smaller herd of about seventy-five head, but it would take a good part of the day to ride through them all.
    “Okay, Daughter, we’ll start here and ride about fifteen feet apart. Let’s go.”
    Charity made her way slowly into the bawling herd, her cutting horse well versed in the action. Nervously, the cattle fanned out at a trot, opening a path. She halted and let the cattle settle. They stopped and looked at her. Several dropped their heads back to eat, while others still eyed her suspiciously.
    When they were calm, she took a few slow steps. She was close enough that she could reach out and touch some if she were so inclined. With a keen eye, Charity did a quick study of each heifer’s face, looking for any sign the animals had problems eating or breathing. In advanced stages of lumpy jaw, the heifer would be weak and unsteady on her feet.
    “See anything?” Flood called over.
    “Nothing yet. But I sure love the smell of these cattle. It’s good to be ranching.”
    She swatted a fly out of her face and her thoughts meandered to the bunkhouse and how much she loved the hands. Then to Frances and what he’d said.
    Who was Fancy Aubrey anyway? Even only hearing the elaborate saloon-girl-sounding name once, it was firmly branded in her mind, never to be forgotten. Surely, with a name like that, she was beautiful. Sultry. Sexy. Totally tempting to a man like Brandon. And totally the opposite of Charity’s tomboy ways.
    A heifer in front of Charity lifted her tail and made a perfectly round splat of cow dung on the ground.
    Brandon liked self-assured women. Ones who could take care of themselves as good as any man. Didn’t he?
    Two hours passed in